Behind the Merits
by Kuma-cchi
Summary: She was a commoner, he was an Ootori. Then, why did he want her so bad? KyouHaru. Oneshot.


_I have jumped ship. KyouHaru BANZAI! xO_

_Disclaimer: Ouran High, I own not._

* * *

**Behind the Merits**

A KyoHaru Oneshot

* * *

-

-

A commoner. A mere commoner, he told himself. Again and again. The busy fingers never stopped typing. The onyx eyes never looked up. The regularity of the thing bothered him. This was happening too frequently. It may prove to be a distraction. He never did find distractions delightful. He would have to rid himself of such worthless emotions.

As an Ootori, he had his own skyscraping goals to achieve, which he knew he would, in due time. For years, being the third son to the infamous Yoshio Ootori, he had strived to maintain that position, to remain within his cage, to paint within the frame given to him. 

That was until a nosy blundering idiot had stumbled into his mind unknowingly and shattered the prejudices he held.

Simple words spoken by an imbecile. An imbecile who had no idea what effect they had on him.

Now he knew he had no limits; he knew none and would accept none. Not anymore. It was a liberating feeling that would bubble inside him and motivate him further to obtain what he desired and whatever he wanted. Yes, he _was_ an Ootori. 

He could – and would – always get what he wanted. 

By any means necessary.

He had smirked with the same evil smirk that had earned him the 'Shadow King' title, when the first light bulb in the dark closed room had lit up. _Interesting_, he had thought, and kept the information to himself. One by one he had watched as the bulbs lit up brightly, till the last bulb lit with a jolt, and the truth was out. He had watched Tamaki's face flush furiously, as the commoner girl stepped out without a flinch. 

He never did recognize the unfamiliar knot forming in his stomach when he looked at them both, once at Haruhi and then at his friend, blushing madly. 

He attributed it to breakfast. 

_Hire a new cook_, he jotted down in his notebook.

Why was it that the harder he pushed, the closer it came, till it stared him in the face one quiet ordinary morning?

It had not struck him suddenly. It was a nagging feeling, which had harassed him for weeks, and forced him to finally take up the issue and observe the problem. He was an Ootori, and he would never fail. And so he didn't, and was quickly able to identify what was 'wrong' with him. 

Never mind. He would not accept it. It was simply not possible.

Kyouya did not know why he would find himself glancing up occasionally to watch their natural rookie in action. _To observe her, _he told himself. _To watch for any mistakes, _he would say, _to increase her debt. _And it was true, to some extent. Whenever he would find her debt was almost cleared, he would look for a situation, some sort of an excuse to further increase it. He did not understand why he would do such a thing. 

Why would he want to keep her in the Host Club?

But he did understand now. It amused him to think that one such as he, who had been trained and taught from his birth to look down upon commoners, and ignore those that held no profit for him, would be attracted to this studious nobody – a commoner, at that – who should mean nothing to him, theoretically.

He knew she was no mere commoner though, no matter how he would state the facts. And only on occasions when he would let his idle mind roam would he admit it to himself. 

She was _unique._

Special.

Eyes that could see through anything. Innocence so fragile he dare not shatter it. 

And perhaps, one of the few who could see through his walls and understand the real Kyouya behind the mask.

_ Could she?_ he had asked himself. But he would not dwell on it. There were profits to be calculated.

During the moments that he glanced up from his work, there would be one face his eyes would look for, one pair of chocolate brown eyes he would search for.

He would remember their night at the beach. It was their secret, something not worthy to be shared with the Host Club. And her words would ring in his mind from time to time.

"_Because… you won't get any merits from sleeping with me"_

He smirked. True. It was all true, what she had said. She was once again able to see through him. She knew his purpose was to follow up Tamaki, to teach her that the idiot was right. But she had seen through, just as she always did.

But even then – Kyouya shuddered at the thought – even then, when he had pinned her down on his bed, when he had her cornered, helpless, defenseless, even then as his eyes traced the outline of her body, the wrinkles she caused on the sheets, even as his heart raced at unspeakable speeds, even then he denied it. 

Even then, he was loath to admit it. He denied it fervently, almost despairingly.

She was the one thing he could not control, she was the only thing he could not take by force, no matter how much he wanted to. She would not bend when he bribed her; she would not falter when he would try to manipulate her. Was it her common background that attracted him, or was it the strength of her character, the subtlety in her blunt words, the depth of her eyes.

He was an Ootori, and he could never allow himself to fall so easily for a woman with no class and a non-existent social status. 

She was nothing compared to him, right? 

He was an Ootori. She was a commoner. 

He did not care for her. She was nobody. 

He did not want her. It was a ritual for him to chant it every day in his mind whenever they were at the Club House, when the said cross-dressing girl would accidentally brush against his arm, or speak his name, or quietly sit beside him doing her homework.

There would be no merit in Haruhi Fujioka.

But then why, oh why, did he want her so bad?

-

-

* * *

_My first KyouHaru. I spelled Kyouya with a 'u' since I just like that way of spelling his name. I got bored of this, so its a Oneshot. Meh /  
_

_**Edit: Much thanks to RandomFun for the title "Behind the Merits"**_


End file.
